Candy is Dandy, but Murder is Quicker
by redsparrow1060
Summary: A teenage girl who's too stupid to know when to run away. A psychotic clown who kills children. How many fanfics have I read with this again? Anyway, my name's Julianna, and this is my utterly cliche story. Remind me again how Marj convinced me to do this? Laughing Jack/OC. Rated M for a heroine's foul mouth.
1. Prologue: Julianna

...Is this thing on?

Yeah, no, I'm not going there. I'm writing this down with Ben's modified Dragon, just thought it'd be amusing. Once I'm done with this thing, I'm killing Marj. She clearly has no idea what she's putting me through. I don't like talking to anyone out of my little circle, unless I have to. Even computers. And she's making me post this on the _Internet?_ How the hell did Slendy agree to this anyway? What did she put in his latest kill?

Then again, he hasn't asked Ben to take down the creepypasta wiki yet, either. Christ knows the little bastard could do it, too, so Slender must be fine with it. Has anyone considered maybe I don't want the entire world to know I'm a serial killer? And maybe I also don't want people to know I'm dating another serial killer who's at least a hundred and fifty years older than me? But, no one said anything about _Twilight_. You know, I'm convinced Stephenie Meyer actually had what happened to Bella in the books happen to her, only neither Edward nor Jacob, or whatever their real names are, picked her in the end. Think about it! Bella's such a Mary-Sue because she's an actual self insert!

No one? Nothing?

Anyway, I fail to see why the infamous hard ass leader of the creepypastas wants any more information on them getting out, much less any physical description of their few human allies. Marj must be drugging him or something. I'm surprised Mask and Hood haven't thought of that and beat her ass yet. It'd give me something fun to watch in this madhouse. Wait, no, this place isn't the real madhouse, the Monochrome is-

The fuck was that?!

MASKY, I WILL KILL YOU!

God, I hate irritating proxy eavesdroppers. He was just listening to me talking into this stupid microphone, letting the robot type for me, when he hit his head on the doorknob jumping up when I mentioned drugging Slender. I swear, I don't know how Marj puts up with them. She has the patience of Job.

Wait a minute...oh, Marj is gonna kill me if Masky actually thinks she's poisoning Slender….

ANYWAY, you can call me Julianna. I'll leave it up to you to decide if that's my real name. I live with some of the most deadly serial killers in existence. Seriously, Jack the Ripper's got nothing on these dudes(and chicks, for those of you not accepting of the gender neutrality of the word 'dude'). They really aren't bad, once you get used to EJ eating raw human organs at dinner, Smile eating raw limbs of anything at dinner(under your feet, I might add.), Ben jumping out of random computer screens, Jeff laughing psychotically out of nowhere, and the constant screaming from the torture chamber slash human storage Slender insists on keeping in the basement.

They actually like me, well, most of them. I've lost count of how many times I've distracted ravenous fangirls for Jeff or Ben or EJ. And I really don't see why people hate Jane so much, if she's not around Jeff she's actually pretty awesome. And the Slenders are awesome too, especially Trender. Finally, I get someone to argue with about how my fashion is perfectly viable. The guy is a virtual word swordsman. I almost have more fun with him than I do with Jack. (Don't tell either of them I said that.)

I also happen to be dating one of said serial killers, and if you have a problem with it you can stick it up your ass. I don't give a shit about what you think. He saved my life, I've saved his and he's the only guy who's ever cared about me other than my dad and brothers. He makes me laugh, puts up with my own craziness, doesn't get bothered when I start listing various methods of murder to freak out people-in fact, he thinks it's hilarious.

Oh, and if you were wondering, my oh so wonderful boyfriend is Laughing Jack. Yeah, you read that right. Laughing Jack.

Yes, the guy is a psycho, and yes, he kills children. But, you know what? I don't care. Unless it's one of my family, in which case he will be getting his ass whooped, but otherwise? We're overpopulated anyway, and that's the creepypasta's job, to cull the human population. They're our last natural predators.

You're thinking I'm not a very nice person, aren't you? I can guess. You're staring at your computer screen, wonder what the fuck is wrong with me. Two years ago, I would've been right there with you. But, you're right. I'm not a very nice person. You wouldn't want to leave me alone with your kids.

Did I forget to mention one thing? I'm a creepypasta too, now. I don't think anyone's come up with a name for me yet, but I'm working on it. Jeff says I need to think of something badass unless I want a sucky name. Apparently, the new creepypasta naming committee is made up of fourteen year olds.

...If I end up as another fucking 'Julianna the Killer', I'm shooting someone.

Actually, I'd be chopping their head off, but shooting sounded better.

Well, I better wrap this up for tonight. Marj wants me to narrate my entire story so she can post it on some website to tell the world more about us, so she says. What was she smoking to think this was a good idea? I still think this is in retaliation for something I did-if it is, Marj, I swear to Zalgo I don't even know what I did!

Oh well, this time I really am wrapping...it...up….

Um, hi Jack.

_*mouse scrolling sounds*_

_So, you have more fun with Trender than me, poppet?_

No, no, no, that's not what I meant! I said 'almost', Jack, 'almost'!

...Jack?

_*laughter* Oh, I really did have you going there, didn't I?_

*grumbles* Sometimes I really hate you.

_I know you're lying, Julie…_

DON'T CALL ME THAT!

_All right, all right. You have to admit though, it was funny._

In your twisted mind, maybe.

_Your mind is twisted too, my dear._

*gasps* Jack...the software's still on.

_It is, is it? *tapping* Well, I suppose Marjorie will have to read our little conversation then, love._

She's gonna be pissed...I already took up most of it with rambling.

_Do I look like I care?_

No. I don't really care either. *rustles* Love you.

_Love you too, poppet._

*clicks*

Well, welcome to my first cooperating creepypasta story. Thank you so much for checking it out! Just a heads up, Julianna has an extremely foul mouth, so if you don't like swearing, you might want to turn back. Expect updates to be sporadic; my muses are very random and I'm kind of new to writing, so it may take me awhile to get on a schedule, if I do at all.

Thanks for reading, please review if you want to, and peace out! (By the way, can someone tell me how to do author's notes? I can't figure out how.)


	2. Hell's Bells are Ringing

**I am so, so sorry this took so long. Blame my horrible procrastination. I will try the best I can to not take as long next time. (If you want other things to blame, you can blame Grell Sutcliff, Drossel Keinz, Homestuck-X-Reader inserts on deviantART, my Transformers muses coming back from the dead, and me being really lazy.) Enjoy, and please, please review!**

"Because it's true! That's what I like about you!" I sang, bouncing around my room while trying to change, making sure to stomp my feet to annoy my older brother. It was Saturday, which meant I could go out and see my friends, and we could hang out at Sugar Heaven….

"Julianna!"

...Right after I did my chores.

"Coming Mama!" I yelled out my door as I hopped on one foot trying to get my shoe on. I love these shoes to death, but since they come up to my knees they do take a minute to put on. I quickly ran down the stairs with one shoe on and one shoe off. My mom was stirring the big oatmeal pot, while my two younger brothers were arguing in sign language about who got the most brown sugar.

"I find it amusing," my mom began, one blonde eyebrow raised. "that you are still in your pajamas, your hair isn't brushed, and you clearly forgot to brush your teeth, yet, you are wearing those shoes."

I looked down at myself. Okay, so I had forgotten to change, but these shoes are my signature. I pulled over my bowl of oatmeal and stirred in some milk. My older brother Michael glanced at me. "Weren't you going out with your friends today?"

I raised an eyebrow. "So eager to get rid of me, big bro?"

Michael rolled his eyes. "To get you out of my hair, anything. Shouldn't you have left already?"

"Michael!" my dad snapped. "You don't talk to your sister that way!"

"Not a big deal, Papa." I propped my chin on my hand as I shoveled oatmeal into my mouth. "And to answer your question, brother mine, I am, but even the amazing Julianna needs to eat."

Michael rolled his eyes again and went back to his cereal. Steven, my youngest brother, appeared to have won the sugar battle and was pouring the brown sugar into his oatmeal. Dad was reading Pride and Prejudice again, and Mom had just put away the pot.

"So," I said, putting my bowl into the sink, "what's my assignment for today?"

"You've got garbage duty, Julie." Mom said, finally sitting down with her own oatmeal.

I growled. "For the last time, _don't call me that!_"

Dad raised an eyebrow. "There's no need to react like that, Julianna."

"It's irritating!" I said, waving my hands around to emphasize my point. "It's like when Aunt Beverly calls you Jamie!"

"Touche."

I stood up and bowed to my family. "I'm going to go get dressed, and then I'll get the garbage. I claim the bathroom."

And with that, I took off.

* * *

I stood in the bathroom, running a brush through my thick black hair. I'm not too vain, at least not compared to other girls in my school, but I like to look good.

I smeared some of my favorite lipstick over my lips, then ended up dropping it when I heard my best friend shouting up the stairs at me. Apparently I wasn't running at the speed of sound like she was.

"Julianna! For the love of Christ, you can do your makeup in the car! Hurry up!"

"Calm your tits, Cay, magnificence doesn't hurry!" I yelled back, throwing my assorted junk into my tote bag and running down the stairs.

My best friend Cayla caught me as I almost fell down the stairs. "You know I've known you for a while when you catch me as I fall." I quipped as she set me back on my feet.

Cayla rolled her eyes. "If you stopped running down stairs, you wouldn't need me to catch you."

I grinned at her as we walked out to her beat-up old Mazda. "Is Lizzie still up for it? I lost her phone number again."

Cayla shook her head as we climbed in. "Yes, she is still in and why don't you just program it into your phone?"

I shrugged. "I never remember until I lose it again."

"I'll do it for you," Cayla said. I handed her my phone and slipped my favorite Black Veil Brides CD into the player. As it started up, Cayla began bobbing her head as she typed into my phone. I applied a bunch of mascara as I sang along.

Cayla handed me my phone, now complete with my other best friend's number, and started up the road. Sugar Heaven was only about ten minutes from my house, and Lizzie would be there waiting.

_She better not forget to bring her money again. I didn't bring any extra, _I thought as I nodded my head to the beat.

We pulled up in front of Sugar Heaven, and the moment I stepped out of the car I was bombarded by an electric bundle of energy with multicolored hair. Cayla shook her head as she slithered out of her window-the door lock had been busted in a flood or something.

"You're here! You're here!" Lizzie chanted, red, brown, green, yellow, and blue curls bouncing all around. She wore yellow capris, a grey T-shirt with some guy on the front, and bright green sneakers. It hurt to look at her. Bright stuff is fine, but you need to offset it with some black or you'll look like you just stepped off a sign in Times Square.

"Lizzie my dear, what made you think I would miss Friday morning fresh lollipops?" I asked, sweeping my best friend down like a tango dancer. She squealed as her sneaker made the burning rubber sound in action movies and I pulled her back up.

"I never got how I'm bigger than you, but you can do that to me!" Lizzie said, pushing through the door as the smell of fudge, candy and caramel overwhelmed our senses. I inhaled, searching for the familiar smell of pure sugar that accompanied my favorite treat. And, gazing around the small shop, I found it.

LOLLIPOPS!

I ran over and quickly grabbed the biggest, brightest, most multicolored one I saw, and ran over to the fudge. My friends followed me. Lizzie had grabbed a much smaller lollipop, and Cayla was pretending to be uninterested, but she hid a box of Atomic Fireballs behind her back.

"It's all the candy she eats." Cayla remarked drily. "It gives her superhuman powers. Better watch out or the Sentinels might get you, Julianna-Banana."

I flipped my hair as I picked out a box of vanilla fudge to bring home. It's my mom's favorite. I grabbed a peanut butter chocolate one for Steven as well. "The Sentinels would run home crying to mama robot if they tried to mess with this bitch."

Cayla gave me a look. "Julianna. Language. You don't want to get kicked out again, do you?"

I winced. That was a particularly nasty memory of mine. A kid in the shop had insulted handicapped kids within my hearing range, and I had cussed him out so badly I got kicked out. The only reason the let me back in was because I was one of the best customers they had.

"It was a one time thing, Cayla!" I defended, picking up my weekly resupply of M&M's to eat at lunch. The staff was looking at us with amused grins, before turning back to their work. I glanced over at Lizzie, who carried multiple boxes for her sweet tooth family, and noticed the shirt wasn't one of the ones I'd seen her wear before.

"Hey Liz? Who's the guy on your shirt?"

She squealed, nearly dropping the candy. "Only the sexiest demon known to man!"

Cayla raised a perfectly shaped eyebrow. "Did you seriously just use the words 'demon' and 'sexy' in the same sentence?"

Lizzie stared at Cayla in horror, and humphed. "Clearly, you do not know of the awesomeness that is Kuroshitsuji!" She turned back to me, and grinned. "And, to properly answer your question, the guy on my shirt is Sebastian Michaelis. Demon butler to the noble house of Phantomhive, and more specifically, the current Earl, Ciel Phantomhive."

I walked over to the counter, dumping my stuff there and pulling out my wallet. "Sounds cool. What's he from?"

"I just said! Kuroshitsuji! Or Black Butler, if you want the English."

"Right. Sorry." I paid for my candy and walked out, sitting at one of the tables outside and unwrapping my lollipop. I set the bag at my feet, and licked away.

God I love candy.

Lizzie and Cayla sat down beside me. We chatted for a while, about the usual: Cayla's soccer game two nights ago-her team won by a thread, whatever anime Lizzie was obsessed with at the moment-the aforementioned Kuroshitsuji, how my sign language lessons were going-I had managed to sign about Steven's homework and he looked really happy, and other such things. I was distracted for a moment, though, when a few girls from our school entered Sugar Heaven.

I frowned. "Never seen them here before." They were of the class known as 'popular bitch'. I' never really interacted with them before; too many of the kids at school were scared of me, so I never caught their attention.

Cayla glared at the receding backs of the girls. "It's because they're Plastics. I'm amazed they're stepping foot in a place with so many calories."

I looked at Cayla and raised an eyebrow. "Did you really just make a Mean Girls reference? I thought you hated that movie."

A flash of near panic entered Cayla's eyes. "Um, I, uh-just because I don't like a movie doesn't mean I can't quote it!"

"Sure. Right. Keep telling yourself that." I mumbled, turning my attention to the girls. They were eating some of the famous dark chocolate, but they didn't look like they were there just for the candy. Designer handbags lay strewn underneath their table; perfectly coiffed curls bounced as they talked in obnoxiously exaggerated valley girl accents. They were there to foremost look good and be seen as so.

...They do realize valley accents were for the 80's, right?

Cayla tilted her head when the leader of the plastics said something rather loudly about math class and the gym teacher. I rolled my eyes. Cay's smart, but she's way too much of a gossip head. I mean, who cares if the gym teacher and the math teacher are sleeping together. Furthermore, how the hell do you even know that? Did you hack their phones or something? Cause that's badass, but why are you wasting badass talent like that on finding out who the teachers are dating? You could be changing your grades.

Lizzie was happily ignoring them, eating her lollipop and browsing on her phone. I leaned over and looked over her shoulder. She squeaked and frantically pressed the home button. I raised an eyebrow. The same hot demon guy on her shirt was her background, along with a gender-confused redhead who was actually really hot.

"Liz," I asked, "wasn't your background the giant killer guy? Jagger-something?"

Lizzie's eyes narrowed. Oh shit. I just pissed off the otaku.

"Julianna," Lizzie began, placing extra emphasis on the syllables, "it. Is. Eren. Yaeger. Do not mistake his amazingness for anyone else, especially not a guy who was last famous in the seventies who looks like he had a bad plastic surgery run."

Cayla choked on her fudge, and I leapt up and began pounding her back. She spat out the glob of chocolate walnut fudge onto the pavement. As she gulped down water, I noticed in the back of my mind that the plastic girls had gone silent.

"Okay, okay," I said, sitting back down."no need to go fangirl rage on me."

"It's okay, just don't…." Lizzie trailed off in the middle of her sentence, giving Cayla a look.

"What?" I asked, then froze. That's when I heard what the bitches were saying.

"Yeah, that's her." The leader, a skinny brunette with buck teeth, whispered to her friends. "I heard she beat up some ex-football player for calling her an emo bitch."

"I'm not emo," I mumbled, drawing looks from Lizzie and Cayla. "Why are you guys so worked up? It's not like it bothers me."

Truthfully, it didn't. I worked very hard to create my image at school, and I enjoyed the reputation I'd acquired of school psycho bitch. It kept annoying people away from me, meant I didn't get hit on by sweat soaked wannabe frat boys, and most of all, kept assholes away from my brothers. Well, not Michael, but he's a different story.

"I heard she has a retarded brother," the peroxide blonde whispered back. My fists clenched, and I narrowed my eyes. Out of the corner of my eye, I saw Lizzie and Cayla share the 'oh shit she better not do what I think she's going to do' look. Oh yeah, if they elaborate, I'm gonna do it.

"Yeah! My sister has a class with him-he can't even _talk_ properly! He just flaps his hands everywhere. You'd think they'd put him in a special school to keep him away from the normal people."

I got up and stalked over to their table. Lizzie frantically whisper yelled for me to come back, but I ignored her. Clearly this whore hadn't been educated as to _why _I was known as the psycho bitch of the school.

I reached their table and planted my fists into the metal. It hurt, but it was worth it to see them jump like scared rabbits. I turned to the brunette, who was already sweating. Maybe she wasn't as stupid as I thought.

"Have you ever thought maybe he is physically _incapable_ of talking?" I purred, getting into her face. They all sat stiff as boards. The blonde's hands were shaking. The fake redhead was looking around, for help I guess. Too bad. It's not like I'll leave any marks. The cops won't believe a thing you say.

"E-everyone's capable of talking, unless they have their vocal chords cut." Your voice is shaking too much to for me to be very confident in you. Dear Lord, you really are uneducated.

"You're wrong, but it doesn't matter." I said, examining my nails. She made as though to get up, but I planted a firm hand on her shoulder, and she slumped. I bent over and looked her in her scared, blue eyes. I wondered what mine looked like to her. Probably something horror movie cliché.

"My brother is profoundly deaf." I said quietly, "but I don't expect you to know what that means. He has never heard a sound in his life. Sign language is the only means he has to communicate other than writing. His _flapping_," I sneered, "as you so eloquently put it, is him trying his best to communicate with his friends."

I lifted one of her shaky hands, examining the perfect nails, with no torn and abused cuticles, or chips and ridges. "Nice manicure." I commented. She jumped again.

"Thanks, I think." she said quietly, beginning to calm. Can't have that.

"Ever pulled them out?" I asked, yanking her to her feet. Her hand was beginning to turn red from how tightly I gripped it.

"Huh?"

"I said," I whispered, pulling her close. She was an inch or so taller than me, but she was shaking. "ever pulled out your nails?"

She looked at me in horror. "Of course I haven't!"

I pretended to look surprised. "Really? I've done it to myself. All you need is some pliers." I danced around her, pulling her in a circle. She tripped over her heels.

I held her hand up, and pinched her pointer fingernail between mine and my thumbnail. "You grip it right here," I said, "and _rip _that sucker out!" I pushed her to the ground; she stumbled over her heels again and fell flat on her ass with an audible crack.

I knelt over her, and gripped the front of her blue cardigan. "I hope I don't catch you saying shit like that again," I said cheerfully, gazing at her terrified face, "or I may have to show you some of my other tricks. Kay?"

She nodded frantically. I let her go, and stood up, dusting the front of my shirt. She stumbled over to her friends-during my little show her heel had snapped-and scooped her bag off the pavement, shaking. They all ran out of there faster than the head of the track team during a race. I turned to my friends with a grin on my face. Cayla shook her head. Lizzie's jaw was on the ground.

"Can we make a Starbucks run? I seriously want some passionfruit iced tea."


	3. Yeah, I'm Crazy

**It's finally done, sparrowlets! I apologize for keeping you all waiting, but my pasta break is over and Julianna has allowed me to finish this chapter. I just want to say thank you guys so much for reading, and putting up with me. Enjoy, and please review, and vote on the poll in my profile if you could. I need your opinions!**

I ignored Cayla's ranting as I fixed my makeup. We had decided to make a quick exit, and were now headed to the park. Cayla had been yelling at me for the past five minutes, only breaking for breath and the Starbucks drivethrough. I had my tea, Lizzie was sipping her second iced latte, and Cayla had gotten a hot latte with two shots of espresso. That was her usual procedure when dealing with one of my outbursts.

"I cannot fucking believe you!" Cayla yelled at me, upon realizing I was paying absolutely no attention to her monologue. "If you're lucky she'll just call the cops when she gets home. She could have called 911!"

"Would it matter?" I asked calmly, taking a sip of my tea. "They wouldn't have believed her anyway, and even if they did, there's nothing they could charge me with. I didn't hurt her."

Cayla pulled over and hit her head on the steering wheel several times, then downed half of her latte in one gulp. She reached into the ashtray and pulled out a bottle of Advil, downing two with the other half of her latte. She pulled out my CD, with a cry of protest from me, and put in the torture device she only used when I'd really pissed her off.

Nickelback's greatest hits, a personal compilation by my best friend and torturer.

"No! Please, not them!" I begged, giving her my best puppy dog eyes. She ignored it, pulling away from the curb and giving me her most serious glare.

"Julianna. You can't keep doing this." she pleaded. "I know this isn't the first time you've done something like that, and it's a miracle no one has turned you in. It isn't right. It isn't healthy."

"You heard what that bitch said about Steven, Cayla!" I argued, almost dropping my tea.

"I know! And it was a shitty thing to say, but you just threatened to torture that girl! That isn't a normal thing to do!"

I sighed, pinching the bridge of my nose. "Cay, you know I love you, right?"

Cayla bit her lips, keeping her eyes on the road. "Yes...but Juli-"

I cut her off. "And you know I'd never hurt you, or Lizzie, or anyone else I cared about?"

"Yes, but-"

"Than it's fine." My voice was firm. "Now can you please turn off that God-awful excuse for music?"

"No. You still need help, Julianna. You need to-I don't know, see someone."

I shuddered. I'm not that kind of crazy. Not as far as I know. "No, I don't. If it makes you feel better, you know and I promise that I won't actually do anything like that without a very good reason for it."

Cayla pulled into the park's parking lot and flicked off the CD player; my ears breathed in relief. She still didn't look very appeased, but that was as far as I was going to get.

"I'm not exactly reassured, Julianna."

* * *

"Higher! Higher!" I screeched, most likely scaring the hell out of the kids that hid around the corner, amazed that teenagers would willingly come to the park. Or swing on the swings while screaming at a peeved best friend to push them more. They apparently knew who I was from older siblings, because when I smiled at them, they acted like the fucking Rake was watching them.

Come on, I'd never hurt a kid. Even if they said something shitty. Most of them only say cruel things because that's all they've been taught. They just need guidance, the kind that isn't intimidation.

"You're like an overgrown seven-year-old, with a sugar addiction and violent tendencies. " Cayla huffed, massaging her temples while Lizzie pushed me. She was clearly still pissed, but at least there was no more musical torture planned. No one deserves torture by Nickelback. Not even terrorists. Though that should be the next line of torture for the government. They should put Justin Bieber and One Direction on that too.

"I have never acted on those violent tendencies, and you know it!" I yelled, enjoying the feel of the wind whipping through my hair. I had pulled it out of its headband and it now flew freely. When it's windy, I love having my hair down, but most of the time I have to keep it pulled back, or else it gets in the way.

"Julie, my arms are getting tired." Lizzie whined. "Can it be my turn?"

I hopped off the swing in mid swing and spun around once I landed. Lizzie took a step backward once she looked at my face.

"You can have a turn, as long as you DON'T CALL ME JULIE!" I yelled, stomping my foot for extra effect. "You guys _know_ I hate that nickname!"

Cayla stood up, and walked over. "Calm down Julianna," she said warningly, "it's just a nickname."

"Yes," I growled, "but you guys know how much I hate…."

I stopped once I looked at them closely. Lizzie had fear, real fear, in her eyes, and she was poised to run. Cayla had moved in between us, and she was tensed like….

Like she expected me to _attack _them.

This was the first time I've had an outburst in front of them, wasn't it? I mean, I'd told them about them, and they'd heard about them from other kids, but I'd never actually done one in front of them.

I've done things like that since I was twelve. I like reading about how people can be hurt, about how we can die. It started because I was terrified of being hurt, and wanted to avoid it. Eventually, it was because it was fascinating. I memorized the ways of torture, where it hurt the most to hit. All the different weak spots on a human body.

I'd never told them just how deep my knowledge went. They must have not known just how different I was. Even though I'm okay being antisocial, it does get lonely sometimes. I didn't want to lose them.

"You thought I was gonna hurt her, didn't you?" I asked, my voice cracking. Cayla hesitated, then nodded. Lizzie bit her lip, and shifted further away from me.

The hurt bubbled up in my stomach, and my chest got heavy. Tears pricked at my eyes, but I forced them back. I bit my own lip, hard enough to draw blood.

"You know what, guys," I said weakly, rubbing my eyes hard, "why don't you go on home. I know I freaked you out, and you probably need a breather from me."

Cayla frowned. "But, Julianna, I'm your ride. How will you get home?"

I waved the question away airily, shooting my most convincing fake smile at them. "I'll walk. Besides, I'd like to get some fresh air, and God knows I could use the exercise."

"Well…okay. Let me get your CD." Cayla trotted over to her car, with Lizzie following behind her like a little scared rabbit running for its mother.

I'm not that scary...right?

Cayla and Lizzie came back quickly. Cayla dumped my CD in my hand, and then we all stared at each other in one of the worst awkward moments I've had in my entire life.

"Well...I guess we'll be going, then." Cayla said, grinding the toe of her shoe into the dirt. Lizzie didn't have to be told twice, and she took off for Cayla's car, shutting herself in. Cayla turned to me. She gave me an apologetic look.

"I'll message you later, okay?"

I could only nod. She walked over to her car, climbed in, and started it up. I shuddered as music began to pulse out of the car-One Direction. Lizzie's favorite. I glanced in the window and waved halfheartedly as they backed out of the parking lot. Lizzie was gesturing violently, and it looked like her voice was getting higher, too. Cayla was trying to calm her down, and I saw Lizzie mouth the words, "I didn't think she was _that_ crazy!"

Okay, I love my friends, but that seriously hurt.

I walked back over to the swings, and buried my face in my hands. I didn't want to cry, I knew it wouldn't help, but a few traitor tears escaped anyway. Idiot. I'm a fucking idiot. They didn't really know what I was like. Why would they want to be friends with a psycho?

_Shut up, _I snapped at myself. Brooding and bitching about it isn't going to do jack shit for me. And I told myself a long time ago that I wasn't going to beat myself up over what I was like, because I can't change it. And even if I could, I wouldn't. I like myself just the way I am.

I settled back into the seat and pushed with my feet, swinging gently back and forth. I couldn't get as high as I could with someone pushing me, but I could swing. When I was younger, I begged and begged my parents for a swingset in our backyard. Swinging made me feel like I could fly, and even though I'm sixteen now, I still love swinging.

I eventually slowed. It hurts to push against the ground like that for a long time, and besides, it was getting late. I pulled my phone out of my pocket, and shot off a quick text to my mom.

_hey, what's for dinner?_

_We're going to Natalie's. Why aren't you home yet?_

Shit. I didn't have a ready excuse...and I couldn't exactly tell them the truth.

_me and the girls went our separate ways. do i have to go?_

_Of course you have to go. Where are you, I'll pick you up on the way._

She doesn't seriously think I can just roll out of a going out with the girls outfit into a family dinner out outfit, right? I need to change! You can't wear the makeup I'm wearing when you're out with your family without being called a hooker by your older brother.

_ma, you know i hate natalie's. can't i stay home?_

_You're too young to be home by yourself._

There goes parental selective memory again.

_ma. i've stayed home alone by myself dozens of times, and there were no problems. it's not like i'm going to do anything other than eat a sandwich and watch the x files._

_You still have to come. It's family._

She's not happy. Something's wrong, and guessing by what happened at breakfast this morning, I'm betting I know what it is.

_has michael had a bad day, ma?_

_Yes._

Bingo.

_then you know he'll be at my throat until he downs some coffee and sleeps for at least twelve hours. it'll be easier if i don't go, he'll be calmer._

_Julianna…_

_it's fine, mama. not a big deal._

_All right, fine. But, if there's one thing out of place when we get home, then you will be in big trouble, Julianna Alecto Everett._

_got it. love you._

YES!

I slipped my phone back in my pocket, and let out a small crow of victory. I could go home, have the house to myself, watch nineties paranormal TV shows, stuff myself with sugar, and best of all? I wouldn't have to deal with shitty Italian food and a dude-PMSing Michael!

I slipped off the swing and did a little victory dance, complete with wiggles and a spinning jump while throwing up rock and roll signs. Which turned into doing the Harlem Shake dance, NOT the weird viral thing, the actual dance, which turned into an impromptu performance of Gangnam Style. When I paused, hands on my knees and out of breath, I heard giggles.

I turned. There was a little girl watching me, doubled over in shaking laughter. She was tiny and delicate, looked about six or seven, and wore jeans and a pale pink t-shirt. Her earth brown hair covered one of her eyes, and was held back by a headband the same color as her shirt. She looked vaguely familiar, but I couldn't quite place her.

She finally looked up at me, and I grinned. I bent into a flourishing bow, imitating a ringmaster I'd seen in the circus as a kid.

"Thank you, thank you," I said with an overly dramatic voice. "I live to entertain."

She didn't say anything, just tilted her head like a baby deer-what are they called, fawns? I frowned slightly. Shouldn't she have heard...wait. Now that I thought about it, that hairstyle looked very familiar. Like….

Jenna, from my sign language class. She did her hair the same way, and it was pretty close to the same color, too. She was a couple of years younger than me, but we were going to the classes for the same reason-to help our deaf younger siblings. She had told me about her younger sister Sylvia, who loved pink, adored her big sister and did her hair the exact same way as Jenna.

I walked toward her, slowly, so I didn't seem like a kidnapper. I took a breath, and began to sign, stumbling a few times over the proper shapes. I was learning, but I definitely wasn't anywhere _close _to being fluent.

"_**You're Sylvia Newton, right?"**_ I asked, trying not to seem threatening.

She gave me a look, backing away while signing. She was a lot faster than me, so I had a hard time keeping up, but I understood her...mostly.

"_**How did you know that?"**_

I gave her what I hoped was a reassuring smile. "_**I go to sign language classes with your big sister. She's told me a lot about you."**_

Sylvia still didn't look comfortable. I didn't exactly blame her. Maybe offering to walk her home like I was going to wasn't such a good idea. "_**My mommy told me I'm not supposed to talk to strangers."**_

I smiled again, and backed up. "_**That's one smart mommy you've got there. Mine told me the same thing."**_

I turned and began to walk away, but looked back over my shoulder, and signed one last thing.

"_**I'm glad you thought I was funny."**_

I took off then.

* * *

When I reached my house, my family was already gone. I silently cheered to myself as I unlocked the door. House all to myself, free reign of what to eat for dinner, and the sixty inch TV ready to play nineties paranormal shows and movies until they got home. What teenager _wouldn't_ be happy with that?

I ran up the stairs, going into my room and performing my coming home ritual. Shoes go, change into sweats and some random t-shirt, take my makeup off, and tie up my hair. Don't get me wrong, I absolutely love my hair, but it gets fucking hot when it's down. And it itches.

I ran back downstairs carrying my paintball fleece blanket and my personal copy of _Men In Black II_, intent on flopping in front of the couch in peace. Mulder and Scully were going to have to wait till another day. I had a date with the greatest alien fighters since the original Star Wars.

Dumping the blanket on the couch, I popped in the disk and went out to the kitchen to heat up a can of soup. When I checked in the fridge, I growled. How was it possible that I had forgotten to put the fudge away?

Oh shit...it was still in Cayla's car. Hopefully she didn't hate me enough to eat it.

I pushed the door shut with my hip and carried my plate into the living room, pressing play. The next forty-five minutes were full of peace and me enjoying soup and one of my favorite movies. At the part where Serleena is doing the creepy finger thing with Kay, I heard something in the kitchen. Passing it off as the cat jumping on something, I ignored it.

When the movie ended, I got up, and said cat bumped into my leg, begging to be petted. When I obliged her, hearing a purr for my reward, I heard something again. I walked into the kitchen, and gasped. There were boxes, bags, and all sorts of stuff strewn over the floor, the island, _everything_.

I put my plate in the sink, picked up the metal baseball bat that stood by the kitchen doorway(Robbie must have forgotten to put it away again), and walked over to the pantry, where I could hear the rustling sounds still. Whoever it was, they were raiding our pantry for some godforsaken reason. Well, they were about to get a nasty surprise.

I stepped around the corner, and promptly dropped the bat on my foot. I didn't even register the pain, or the sound, but my mysterious visitor did. His head whipped around, and he pulled his arms out of the pantry and glared at me.

Laughing Jack was standing in my kitchen.

And, me being the most eloquent girl you would ever come across, blurted, "Holy _shit_, you're real!"


End file.
